


A lone kayak

by CureIcy



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Character Study, Lonely Avatar Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:07:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27182881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CureIcy/pseuds/CureIcy
Summary: Timothy Stoker is tired of hurting.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	A lone kayak

Tim never wanted to hurt like this.

He used to wonder what his story would be like, whether anyone would tell it. Stared at the labels of published books, thought maybe it was a fantasy, or a romantic comedy. As he grew older, he realized it wasn’t fantasy, but maybe a calm slice of life, realistic fiction. He wouldn’t mind being Sasha’s love interest; he’s content to respect the boundaries she’d set, but she will always be a piece of his heart. 

Now, Tim thinks he may be the protagonist of a tragedy, stuck in the wrong book and desperately wishing for a home that doesn’t exist. Like Hamlet stuck in the narrative meant for Othello, cruel fate has conspired against everything that makes Tim what he is.

Maybe he’s angry. Maybe he doesn’t want to be. Maybe he doesn’t know what else to be. Maybe he has every right to be. Maybe the anger hurts more than words could ever express.

Maybe he’s just tired, so tired. When does all of this end?

There is no end. There is no escape without losing himself. There is no solidarity here. There is nothing, and Tim is everything, and he desperately wishes he wasn’t.

And so he climbs into his kayak, whispers a silent apology to Danny, and paddles out into the fog, letting it dull all the jagged edges. Even the pain is gentle here. In the distance, he hears a boatswain’s call, low and undulating, and it sounds like home. The water is still, parting for him, swallowing his paddle, guiding him on. Where is he going? It’s a small lake, he should have reached the other side, but instead he finds himself running aground on an unfamiliar shore after what feels like an eternity.

The sand becomes glass becomes driftwood becomes the carpet of home becomes linoleum becomes gritty stone. Tim keeps climbing, climbing, until he’s onstage, the painted black surface chipped to hell and back, marked with cues and positions and places where people would be.

But there’s no one. There’s only Tim. Danny isn’t here anymore. He’s never coming back. Sasha hasn’t been by his side for so long. He never noticed.

Timothy Stoker is on stage. The lights are blinding. This is where he belongs. He’s a coward who ran away, who let the woman he loved die, who abandoned his brother, who can’t save anyone, much less the entire world.

The audience is empty. The audience has too many eyes. The audience will hurt him, if he ever lets a trace of love escape his heart. His words can not reach them. And he is so, so tired of trying.

Timothy Stoker is on stage, and the curtain falls. He sighs. This moment feels the same and different as the last. No one can hurt him. 

It’s over now. This tragedy, this monologue, this ache, is

nothing.


End file.
